


Anything At All

by OrangeChickenPillow



Category: CrankGameplays - Fandom, Crankiplier - Fandom, Unus Annus - Fandom, markiplier - Fandom
Genre: Anxiety, Anxiety Attacks, CrankGameplays - Freeform, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Markiplier - Freeform, Panic Attacks, Platonic Female/Male Relationships, Platonic Male/Male Relationships, Platonic Relationships, Platonic Soulmates, Trigger warning: descriptions of anxiety and panic attacks. If this may trigger you do not read, Unus Annus, crankiplier - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-05
Updated: 2020-11-05
Packaged: 2021-03-09 03:21:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27407986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OrangeChickenPillow/pseuds/OrangeChickenPillow
Summary: Ethan hadn't woken up anxious, but it sure caught up with him.
Relationships: Amy Nelson & Ethan Nestor, Mark Fishbach & Amy Nelson, Mark Fishbach & Ethan Nestor
Comments: 6
Kudos: 284





	Anything At All

**Author's Note:**

> Just wanna put a clear trigger warning here:  
> This work contains descriptions of anxiety and panic attacks -- if this might be triggering to you, do not continue. 
> 
> Having personally experienced anxiety, I know how awful it can be. In a recent "answering your questions" video, Ethan made the comment that telling people what he needed from them while he was having a panic attack (like, for example, physical touch/no physical touch, or telling someone it's going to be okay) really helped him and those around him cope with his anxiety. This fic is inspired by that comment, along with my own personal experiences with how horrible anxiety can be.   
> Also, this is a work of fiction, and in no way meant to represent Ethan himself, his anxiety, or any of his real life experiences.
> 
> Happy reading, and stay safe out there everyone <3

Ethan hadn’t woken up anxious. When he’d opened his eyes that morning, he’d been filled with a hutch that the day was going to be a good one. He’d risen before his alarm feeling refreshed and invigorated, and wondering if his current mood was a side effect of working out every day; he had recently gotten back into the habit. If that was the case, it sure was ideal. Sleep had always been weird for him: sometimes he slept just fine, other times he laid awake all night practically pulling his hair out in frustration. But lately he’d been doing better. 

He’d smiled at his reflection in the mirror, hummed to himself in the shower, and looked forward to a bowl of cereal with an abnormal sense of excitement that was probably uncalled for. 

Ethan hadn’t woken up anxious, but it sure caught up to him. Anxiety’s a bitch. 

It hit him while he was eating that oh-so-anticipated bowl of cereal. He was sitting contently at the kitchen table when bam -- it felt like someone had pulled a mask off his head. Like he was seeing his surroundings for the first time. His mind seemed to go out of focus for a moment before settling into a state of panic. Suddenly he felt like he’d been poisoned. 

His heart began to race and he could feel his breathing start to climb. He very much did not want to have a panic attack -- he’d had enough of those, thank you very much -- so he gripped the table until his hands hurt and tried to fill his lungs slowly. He didn’t know how much time passed like that, and thinking about it sent another jolt through his body. What time was it?

He had to be over at Mark’s for filming. He was supposed to be there at eleven. He looked down at his watch. 

Ten forty-six. 

Ethan groaned. He’d be able to make it in time, but just barely. Throwing his bowl of half eaten cereal in the sink, he struggled to grab his keys, bag, and water bottle -- trying to remember if there was anything Mark had asked him to bring. His mind wouldn’t focus, and his breathing had hitched in his throat, his chest hammering against the emptiness inside it. He hurried to his car and tossed his things in the passenger seat. 

He sat, key in the ignition. His heart was pounding, and he felt a little light headed. His chest hurt, and he could hear his mind racing forward without him. Why was he so anxious? But he knew there was seldom a reason; his anxiety tended to just pop up. He groaned deeply. This day was supposed to be good. Why couldn’t it just be good?

With the way he was feeling, Ethan wondered if he should call Mark and cancel their plans. He wasn’t sure he could film right now. He wasn’t sure he could do much of anything. No, he thought firmly, the anxiety will only get worse if I sit around and let it take over. If I go, I’ll have to film, but at least I’ll be doing something to distract myself.

Ethan felt like he really needed a distraction. 

So he turned the key, and the car rumbled to life. 

The drive to Mark’s was an easy one, and Ethan had taken it so many times that his brain easily slipped into autopilot while his thoughts tried to sabotage him. He realized that he was rocking back and forth in his seat when the belt locked, digging into his collarbone. His breathing still hadn’t calmed down, but it hadn’t gotten any worse. He felt horrible, like his body knew something he didn’t, and was reacting without telling him first. 

By the time he pulled up to Mark and Amy’s house, things had gotten a little better. His heart rate, at least, seemed to have leveled out. Glancing in the rear view mirror to check his hair, he was startled to find a pale, clammy face looking back at him. Was that his face? Couldn’t be. He ran his hands over it, sighing. 

Ethan sat for a moment, trying to reel in his stampeding thoughts, which was hard since they raced by so quickly he couldn’t even get a good look at them. When he noticed that a face had appeared in the window, he knew he had stalled long enough. They were waiting for him, and he didn’t want anyone to worry. He didn’t feel up to answering any questions that might arise as a result. 

Putting on whatever expression he thought might make him appear to be fine, Ethan headed for the front door. Amy met his knock. 

“Hey, mornin’,” she said with a kind smile. 

“Morning,” Ethan said, tying his best to reciprocate. His smile felt cracked and weak. 

Amy’s eyes changed slightly -- at least, he thought they did -- but she said nothing. 

Used to the routine they had picked up since the start of Unus Annus, Ethan threw his things by the door and followed Amy into the kitchen.

“Mark’s in the dining room setting things up. I’ve got a few more things to take care of, but then we’ll get started,” Amy explained before heading the other direction. 

“Okay,” Ethan said to the empty room. 

His body somehow made its way to the dining area without Ethan telling it to. 

“Hey man! Perfect timing, I just finished,” Mark said, gesturing to the table. 

Mark had assembled the supplies for what appeared to be three different videos. Ethan felt his chest heaving at the idea of having to make it through three whole videos. He wasn’t sure he could. 

“Cool,” he said, trying to sound like he meant it. 

“Yeah… You okay man?”

“Yeah, just -- tired,” Ethan managed. His heart was really pounding now. He wondered if Mark could hear it. It sounded loud in his own ears. 

But if Mark could hear it, he didn’t let on, thought he didn’t look entirely convinced of Ethan’s answer either. 

Ethan had gotten pretty good at masking his anxiety around others, if it was necessary, but he’d noticed that spending so much time with Mark and Amy meant that they had begun to pick up on when he wasn’t feeling himself. He had thought about telling them what he needed, should he ever have a panic attack at their house, but his anxiety hadn’t been too bad for so long that it hadn’t felt relevant anymore. Now he was wishing he would have told them. As the minutes wore on, he was becoming more and more sure that a panic attack was on its way. 

He wanted to smack himself in the head -- he almost did, but caught himself before Mark noticed anything. Stupid, stupid anxiety. Today was supposed to be a good day. He was supposed to have fun with his friends, filming goofy videos and enjoying himself. Why did he have to be anxious today? Why couldn’t it have come tomorrow when he could just stay home and deal with it in private? Why did it have to come at all? Couldn’t it just leave him alone? Why--

“Ethan? Did you hear me?” Mark asked. 

“What? Sorry -- I was spacing out,” Ethan tried to smile apologetically, but he had the feeling it looked like a grimace instead. 

“Yeah, it’s okay,” Mark spoke slowly, and he was looking closely at Ethan.“I said we’re ready to go if you are.”

Ethan suddenly noticed that Amy was behind the camera. He shook his head to clear it, trying one more desperate time to calm his thundering heart.   
“Yep, ready,” Ethan squeezed out. 

Ethan slipped into his filming mode, but the anxiety never fully went away, it just got pressed down far enough that he could function. The first video went by alright; he didn’t feel himself, but he was able to pick up on most of Mark’s bits, and anything else could be chalked up to his ADD. He was having trouble focusing, but it wasn’t because he hadn’t taken his meds. He felt like his organs were trying to crawl up his throat, and his chest hurt so much. 

Mark noticed it before Ethan even realized what he was doing. His hand kept reaching up to rub at his sternum. Mark glanced over once, then twice, then every few minutes, worry growing in his eyes. But Mark kept going with the video, and Ethan didn’t notice that anything was wrong until it they’d wrapped up. 

Mark turned towards him. “Are you okay?”

His voice sounded like it always did -- casual and relaxed, but it had a firm edge to it, as if Mark was trying to convey that he was done with Ethan’s excuses. 

“Uh,” Ethan started, not sure if he could explain what was happening in a coherent way. He’d been hoping the anxiety would pass, but it had only increased in intensity. He looked down and found that his hands were shaking. Mark saw them too, and his eyebrows furrowed. Ethan was sure now: he was going to have an attack. 

“Um.. I - I,” he took a deep breath. 

Mark, seeming to suddenly understand that Ethan was going to -- or at least trying to tell him what was wrong, leaned forward on the edge of his chair.

“Alright, hey, it’s all good man,” Mark said, trying to help his friend out. 

All of Ethan’s strength was going towards not hyperventilating, but it didn’t seem to be working. 

“Do you need your epipen?” Mark asked, his eyes suddenly wide. 

Ethan let out a raspy laugh. “No -- no,” he said, waving his hands, which were still shaking aggressively. 

Mark looked expectantly at him, and for the first time, Ethan looked back. 

“I’m having -- I think I’m having a panic attack.” He tried to make his voice calm, but couldn’t tell if he managed. 

The sentence had taken so much of his breath, and once it left his body he was gasping. 

“Okay. okay,” Mark said, his voice calm now that he understood. 

Ethan watched out of the corner of his eye as Mark shifted in his seat, fidgeting with his hands. Ethan squeezed his eyes shut, horrified that he was making his friend feel awkward. 

“What do you need from me right now?” Mark asked, leaning towards Ethan, who was surprised to hear his friend’s voice come out in a nonchalant, almost unbothered tone. 

“Um… I -- uh…” Ethan was hyperventilating now. 

Mark looked at Amy, who was still stationed by the camera, with concern. She was watching carefully, ready to do whatever was asked of her. Ethan didn’t notice -- his eyes were still squeezed tightly shut. 

“Eth--” 

Ethan’s eyes flew open now. This one was bad. Using up the last of his control, he struggled to tell his friends what he needed. 

“I -- uh,” Ethan took a shallow, sighing breath. Both Mark and Amy were watching him carefully. 

He tried again. “I feel like -- like I’m going away from my body.” 

Ethan shook his head and attempted a laugh, trying not to make it seem like the big deal it was. Mark hated how scared the younger man sounded. 

“I feel like I’m losing--,” his voice hitched, and he wondered if his face was wet, or if he was just imagining things. 

“Okay -- Ethan?” Mark reached out his hand, placing it firmly on the younger man’s shoulder. He squeezed. 

“You’re right here,” Mark said plainly, calmly. 

“You’re right here.”

Ethan shuddered a little. His breathing was rapid, and his chest hurt, but Mark’s hand felt solid and real; it grounded him to his body, and all of the sudden he wasn’t afraid he would float out of himself. 

Very gradually, he got a hold of his breathing. He was able to slow it down until it was almost in pace with Mark’s, whose hand had remained on his shoulder through it all.   
When he could finally breathe again and he felt the adrenaline from the attack ebbing, Ethan noticed that Mark had scooted his chair closer, and their legs were almost touching. 

Amy, who had been hovering near, noticed that Ethan was beginning to come back and disappeared into the kitchen. Ethan heard the sound of water running from the tap, and sure enough, Amy reappeared with a glass of water. 

“Thank you,” Ethan whispered, his throat hoarse. He tried to smile at her, and it felt alright. 

She smiled back. “There we go. Feeling okay, bud?”

Ethan took a shuddering but deep breath. “No, but I’m getting there.”

It was the truth. He felt awful, but the worst of it was over. He looked sheepishly at Mark, whose hand was still resting on his shoulder. 

“Thanks Mark. I’m so sorry…” He let the apology trail off. 

Mark shook his head right away. “Nothing to be sorry for. I’m sorry you had to go through that, jeez man. Those happen often?”

Ethan smiled sadly, “Uh, sometimes -- but don’t worry about it.”

“Well, I do worry, and that’s not exactly reassuring.” 

Mark returned Ethan’s smile with an equally somber one, then hesitantly removed his hand from the boy’s shoulder. 

“That really helped,” Ethan said, nodding to empty space Mark’s hand had left.

“I’m glad,” Mark said with a smile starting on his lips. “I wasn’t exactly sure if it would, but I figured I’d try.”

“Yeah, sorry. I -- I wanted to sort of explain what I need when that happens, but my anxiety wasn’t that bad for a while so I didn’t, but obviously I should have and--” 

“Ethan,” Mark said, shaking his head. “You don’t need to apologize.”

“Yeah bud,” Amy added. “And anything you need -- anything at all, just let us know and we’ll help you out where we can, okay?”

Ethan felt his chest swelling, but this time it was with the overwhelming love for his two friends. 

“Yeah,” he smiled broadly now. “Thank you, guys.”

And he’d never meant anything more in his whole life.


End file.
